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Released 23 September 1927, Berlin: Die Sinfonie der Großstadt (Berlin: Symphony of a Great City) is a classic of the avant-garde city symphony, which was most popular in the Twenties and Thirties. These films documented the everyday life of major cities, and were highly influenced by modern art schools such as Cubism, Impressionism, and Constructivism.

As an avant-garde film documenting the people, events, and places of a city, there’s no true plot. The only real story trajectory is showing the passage of time through a day, from sunup to nightfall. Recurring, connecting motifs are streetcars and trains. Scenes and images are put together based upon thematic content, POV, motion, and images.

Urban audiences loved city symphonies, because they could recognize familiar landmarks, people they knew, and even themselves. This film is particularly precious because it documents Berlin as it used to be, before so much of it was destroyed during WWII.

Hotel Excelsior, once Europe’s largest and most luxurious hotel, and the Anhalter Bahnhof railway terminal are among the landmarks which didn’t survive the war.

Act I opens with calm waters, sunrise, and a train steaming into Berlin. We see the placid, empty streets before the city wakes up. Gradually, more and more people appear in the streets.

Act II opens with shutters, doors, windows, and gates opening. We also see kids going to school, people cleaning, fruit carts, shops opening, and people beginning the workday. Depending upon class, they walk or take the streetcar, bus, or private, chauffeured cars.

Office-workers set out writing instruments and paper, roll open desks, open books, and set up typewriters. The typists become a montage of a hypnotist’s spinning wheel, phone operators, monkeys biting one another, fighting dogs, machinery, and the other work in the office.

Act II ends with phones hanging up.

Act III shows shoppers and salespeople, construction workers, window displays, fights, industrial workers, cops, flirtations, a father and daughter arriving by a wedding, a diplomat, a coffin on a hearse, the Reich president, a protestor lecturing a crowd, a student organization marching with banners, trains, and newspapers.

Act III ends with many newspapers, held up to the camera, dissolving into one another.

Act IV begins with lunch break. A factory’s spinning wheels halt as 12:00 arrives, and workers go home or to cafés. Animals as well as humans eat and drink. Shots of a wealthy diner are interspersed with those of poor street children hugging their mother and a lion feeding on meat from a bone.

Some people and animals rest during the break, including poor people sleeping on benches and ledges, all while Berlin continues to bustle all around them. When a diner bangs his spoon on a bowl, the city springs back to life.

There’s a montage of trains, roller coasters, revolving doors, wind, rain, leaf cyclones, churning water, fighting dogs, crowds, people looking over a rail into water, eyes, and a splash. The city then returns to calm, as the workday ends and fun begins.

Act IV ends with kids playing in a lake, racing boats, games and races, and couples on park benches at nightfall.

Act V is all about nightlife. House lights and electric signs come on, people go to the theatre, and curtains rise on many types of shows—burlesque, trapeze, juggling, dancing, singing. In a movie theatre, Charlie Chaplin’s feet and cane are at the bottom of a screen.

It all ends with a spinning montage of fireworks and light from an electric tower.

One of the reasons I love old films so much is because they’re a time capsule of a long-vanished world. With this film, there’s also the haunting wonder about how many of these people survived the war, and who might’ve become hardcore Nazis, garden variety Nazis, or people who resisted.

This is a great way to explore avant-garde. There also aren’t any intertitles. It’s a portrait of a living, breathing city, in a language that transcends words.

Wesselényi Utca is part of Erzsébetváros (Elizabeth Town), the historical Jewish quarter of District VII of Budapest. During the German occupation of 1944–45, it formed part of the large ghetto. There were two ghettoes, a small, international ghetto for those with phony foreign citizenship enabling them to live in the relatively protected Yellow Star Houses, and a large ghetto for everyone else.

The street got its modern name in 1872, from reforming politician and patriot Baron Miklós Wesselényi de Hadad (20 December 1796–2 April 1850). Only the downtown side was developed until 1887, when it began expanding and improving.

Landmarks include the former Metropolitan Shoemakers’ Guild HQ, the Ministry of Education, Henrik Meyer Baptist Theological Student Hostel and Baptist church (in the same building), the stage door of the Magyar Theatre, former HQ of the Paint Industry Board, a former Jewish elementary school (converted to a hospital in the ghetto), and the former JCC.

My characters the Goldmarks, widowed mother Lídia and her children Imre, Júlia, and Nándor, move into an apartment on Wesselényi Utca after the end of the war. Mrs. Goldmark was in the large ghetto without protective papers, but she managed to send her children to relative safety in the international ghetto with phony papers fromCarl Lutz. They formerly lived in the Castle District on the Buda side.

Mrs. Goldmark found a way across the Danube and recovered what she could from their former home, including a fair amount of furniture, and brought it back across the river to their new apartment. Though they’re a religious Neolog family, they’re still upper-middle-class Budapestis used to a certain lifestyle.

The British White Paper of 1939 is one of the blackest marks on British history, very similar to America’s equal black mark of “The Emergency Immigration Quota.” Both significantly contributed to the number of people prevented from reaching safety before the Nazis devoured them.

Neville Chamberlain issued this most foul piece of quasi-legislation in response to the 1936–39 Arab revolts in the British Mandate of Palestine. The Arab population (who weren’t calling themselves Palestinians at this time, contrary to modern-day ultra-Left propaganda) revolted in part because they were very unhappy with the large mass of Jewish immigrants.

1936 bus with wire over the windows, as a safeguard against terrorism

Evacuating the Old City of Jerusalem, 1936

The White Paper was approved by the House of Commons on 23 May 1939, and limited Jewish immigration to 75,000 over five years. Further immigration would be determined by the Arabs. Jews weren’t allowed to buy land from Arabs anymore, and Britain would only allow a Jewish state with Arab approval.

The British didn’t consider a binational state. They foresaw an Arab state which included a Jewish national home within ten years.

Women’s protest by King David Hotel, Jerusalem, 22 May 1939

Haganah HQ demonstration, Jerusalem, 1939

Though all self-respecting Zionists immediately rejected this piece of filth, it was heartily accepted by major scumbag and terrorist Hajj Amin el-Husseini, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem and an ally of Hitler. For several months, protests and attacks on government property reigned, and a general strike was called on 18 May.

The White Paper led to a very sharp uptick in illegal immigration, since these people desperately needed to leave occupied Europe, and there was no other way to get to Palestine. There were only 34,000 legal immigration certificates left by December 1942, when the Shoah became public knowledge (albeit buried in tiny print in the back pages and dismissed as Polish and Jewish propaganda trying to drum up sympathy).

Women’s demonstration, 18 May 1939, King George Street, Jerusalem

Youth demonstration, 18 May 1939, Zion Circle, Jerusalem

After the war, the vile Ernest Bevin (Labour Foreign Minister), nicknamed Bergen-Bevin, continued the policy of severely restricting immigration. Many survivors wanted to go to Palestine, the only place where they’d be fully, truly accepted and understood. Instead of being allowed to go to their homeland, these survivors were forced to remain in Europe, a continent which represented a blood-soaked graveyard.

Many of the ships attempting to bypass the British blockade were pirated, and the survivors attacked mercilessly. Some were killed during the resulting assaults and skirmishes. Other ships were sunk. Those who survived were forced into detention camps on Cyprus.

Even after Israel declared her independence in May 1948, the British forced many military-aged men to remain on Cyprus. Their wives and children usually chose to stay with them.

Former Sacred Heart Church (not to be confused with Newark’s Sacred Heart Cathedral)

Vailsburg is in the West Ward, on a hill. It began life as an independent municipality, and was incorporated as a borough on 28 March 1894. Vailsburg was annexed by Newark on 1 January 1905, based on the results of a special election on 12 April 1904.

It’s named for Dr. Merit H. Cash Vail, a politician, very important landowner, and strong advocate for an independent municipality.

Vailsburg was the final independent suburb annexed to the ever-expanding Newark. To try to avoid this fate, residents had suggested it as one of the municipalities to form a Greater Orange in the mid-1890s. Vailsburg ultimately lost its independence, but Newark’s mayor did fail to annex Kearny, East Orange, Belleville, and Harrison. Vailsburg is physically separated from the rest of the city by the Garden State Parkway’s trench.

Newark Gospel Tabernacle, originally Stanley Theater

Though contemporary Vailsburg is mostly home to immigrants from Nigeria and other parts of Africa, Haiti, Jamaica, Guyana, and the West Indies, it had a very large community of Ukrainians, Italians, Irish, and Germans before the disastrous Newark Riots of July 1967. It’s overly simplistic to blame the riots for chasing out almost all of Newark’s old guard demographics, but those riots were the death knell for communities already dispersed by white flight and suburban migration.

Some parts of Vailsburg still have a bit of a suburban feel, though there are also abandoned buildings and other signs of urban decay. South Orange Avenue, the main drag, got a much-needed makeover at the dawn of the new millennium, and now a lot of small, independent businesses are there.

Many Vailsburg houses were built from 1945–47, in Dutch Colonial and Victorian style.

St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church; Source; used to illustrate subject under Fair Use doctrine

The first documented Ukrainians arrived in Newark in 1899, and by 1905, there were enough to merit Ukrainian-language advertising from the Newark Public Library. In March 1907, the Church of St. John the Baptist was founded on Court Street, as a storefront church. Besides the Ukrainian Greek Catholic parish, there were also Ukrainian Orthodox and Protestant parishes.

In 1925, they moved to Morton Street, where they stayed till the cramped church was demolished in 1960. From 1963–65, a new church was built on 719 Sanford Avenue.

In 1910, parishioners created an evening school for their children, and in 1939, Basilican nuns created a K–8 dayschool. In 1953, the school moved from Morton Street to Sanford Avenue, ahead of the church relocation.

Vailsburg Park began construction in 1917, and was completed in the late 1920s. Like Ivy Hill Park, it was also designed by the Olmsted Brothers. The park was originally an Electric Park, an amusement park found in dozens of cities starting in the late 1890s. Most closed by 1917, though a few remained in existence much longer.

Vailsburg residents thought it disturbed the peace, and waged a campaign to convert it into a park. There was also a velodrome across from the park, built in the early 20th century but taken down in the late 1920s.

During WWI and WWII, the Army used the park for recruiting, training, and embarking. Then, in 1952, they took away two softball diamonds for an anti-aircraft gun site in a portion of the park they leased. They left the park in 1960.

Inside the former Stanley Theater; Source; Use consistent with Fair Use doctrine

The Stanley-Fabian theatre chain built a second Newark theatre in 1927. The flagship was on Branford Place (since razed), and the second one was on South Orange Avenue. It was a grand movie palace, with a Spanish-themed auditorium. Patrons went through three chambers, each more impressive than the next, on their way to the actual theatre. There were 1,200 seats, and ushers wore red velvet uniforms.

In the 1950s, it was bought by an Italian–American group and became Casa Italiana. Then, in 1989–90, it was sold for a million dollars. Now it’s home to the Newark Gospel Tabernacle, and is Newark’s best-preserved movie palace.

My characters initially live in Vailsburg upon their November 1948 immigration, though later move to other parts of the West Ward. Serena Fine (née Szerén Halpert), Eszter and Mirjam’s first-cousin twice-removed, and her family are settled in Vailsburg. This distant cousin they never met made all of their immigration possible.

Though most people think of the Sorbonne when they think of French universities, there are many other wonderful schools too. The University of Montpellier is one of France’s oldest and most venerable, formally founded in 1289 and truly dating back to at least 1137. Not only is it one of France’s oldest schools, but one of the oldest universities in the world.

Before Pope Nicholas IV issued a Papal bull bestowing university status in 1289, there were a series of venerable liberal arts schools in Montpellier. Italian jurist and glossator (legal student) Placentinus came to Montpellier from the University of Bologna’s law school in 1160 and taught there during two different periods. He died in Montpellier in 1192.

Professors from Montpellier’s law school were very instrumental in the drafting of the Napoléonic Code of 1804. These civil laws are still in use in modern-day France, though with some changes over the years.

Montpellier’s school of medicine was in existence at least as early as 1137, staffed by doctors trained in Spanish medical schools. It’s the world’s oldest medical school still in operation.

In the 14th century, the medical school famously argued the cause of Bubonic Plague was a miasma penetrating the body’s pores. Montpellier-educated doctors urged people not to bathe, for fear it would open pores and invite in the miasma. This miasma was supposedly created by air exposed to decaying bodies, humid weather, and fumes resulting from poor sanitation.

Le Jardin des Plantes de Montpellier was founded in 1593 on the orders of King Henri IV, and under the leadership of Pierre Richer de Belleval, an anatomy and botany professor considered the father of scientific botany. France’s oldest botanical garden, it was inspired by Orto Botanico de Padova (Padua), and in turn inspired le Jardin des Plantes de Paris in 1626.

Today, the garden is home to 2,680 plant species, 500 of which are native to the Mediterranean region. About 1,000 of these species are in a greenhouse. There are also palm trees, orange trees, aquatic plants, ferns, orchids, succulents, and medicinal plants.

The school of theology dates back to at least 1350, as evidenced in two letters of King Jean II. Pope Martin V bestowed canonical institution upon the school in a Papal bull of 17 December 1421, and it was thus closely united with the law school.

The Catholic theology school was thrown into haywire by the 16th century triumph of Calvinism in the region, though the Catholic school was reinstated in 1622. However, the Jesuit vs. Dominican rivalry put even more strain on the school, and it eventually disappeared upon the French Revolution.

Like all other French universities, Montpellier too was closed upon the French Revolution in 1793. In 1810, the schools of letters and science were reopened, and the law school reopened in 1880.

In 1969, the university was officially reorganised, as a result of the famous student riots all over France in May 1968. It henceforth was split into three schools. University of Montpellier I had medicine, law, and economy; II had science and technology; and III had liberal arts, social sciences, and humanities.

On 1 January 2015, I and II merged to become a newly-recreated University of Montpellier. III became a separate institution, Paul Valéry University.

My character Imre always dreamt of studying literature by the Sorbonne, but after Csilla and their other friends move to a strawberry farm in Béziers, run by the Jewish Scouts and Guides of France, Imre can’t take the separation and rushes down to that farm. He gets his own living quarters on the farm, and commutes about 30 minutes to the university.

In Montpellier, Imre runs across some of Csilla’s Abonyiak friends whom they’d falsely believed died. I thought all these people had died too, but once they were no longer just names and death dates, I didn’t have to heart to kill so many of them. I arranged for their survival through transports to various factories, being left behind upon evacuation, and death march escapes.

The 20th Arrondissement of Paris (a.k.a. Arrondissement de Ménilmontant) is on the Right Bank. It’s bordered on the north by the 19th Arrondissement, on the west by the 11th Arrondissement, and on the south by the 12th Arrondissement. Probably its most famous attraction and landmark is Père Lachaise Cemetery.

Historically, the higher the number of the arrondissement, the more working-class and poor folks (many of them immigrants). This isn’t the wealthy, stereotypically “cultured” population which flocked to the arrondissements with very low numbers. As a proud proletarian, it’s right up my alley!

Its population peak and most concentrated density was 1936, with 208,115 residents, 34,779 per square kilometer. It was annexed to Paris in 1859, and formed from the towns of Belleville and Ménilmontant, the municipality of Saint-Mande, and the commune of Charonne. As of 2012, the population was 198,678.

1905

Besides Père Lachaise, other landmarks include Belleville Cemetery, St. Germain Church of Charonne, Charonne Cemetery, Église Notre-Dame-de-la-Croix de Ménilmontant, Pavillon Carré de Baudouin, Tenon Hospital, Hospital de la Croix Saint-Simon, and many schools and parks. The 20th Arrondissement also has the next-largest Chinatown in Paris.

Église Notre-Dame-de-la-Croix, Copyright Zantastik

Église Notre-Dame-de-la-Croix, sometime between 1863–70

My characters are resettled in a cheap apartment in the 20th Arrondissement upon their return from Nantes in December 1945. Wolfram, who’s since left Le Meurice, has the apartment across the hall, and made the arrangements for them to live there for possibly less than the time of a normal lease.

He’s also bought them mattresses and secondhand furniture, put all their tableware and cookware in the cupboards, and moved in all their extra luggage and Caterina’s recovered small furniture. Wolfram insists he doesn’t need to be repaid, and tells them to consider it a belated Chanukah present.

Their apartments are on Rue des Pyrénées, which forms the eastern border of Père Lachaise.

Église Saint-Germain-de-Charonne, 1900

Everyone but Wolfram goes for a walk through Père Lachaise on Csilla’s 18th birthday, 21 December, before starting their planned walk to Al Syete, a Sephardic synagogue in the 11th Arrondissement. The walk ends in terror and horrific flashbacks for everyone but Imre and Júlia, as they have an up-close and personal encounter with the crematorium.

The moment they realise what the building and smell are, they start going into hysterics, which attracts a lot of negative attention. Marie is so badly affected, she passes out, and Imre has to run back to the apartment to get Csilla’s recovered sled. The boys are shaking too badly to carry her, and Imre only has one good arm, since he broke his left hand last month.

The monument Marie passes out by, in memory of the victims of a fire at an 1897 showing of Lumière Brothers’ films, Copyright Pierre-Yves Beaudouin /Wikimedia Commons/CC BY-SA 4.0

Tempio Maggiore Israelitico di Firenze, the Great Synagogue of Florence, was built thanks to David Levi, late president of the Florentine Jewish community, bequeathing his entire estate for the building of a new synagogue. Architects Marco Treves, Mariano Falcini, and Prof. Vicente Micheli combined Italian traditions with Moorish style.

Giacomo del Medici designed the great arch, and artist Giovanni Panti provided the beautiful frescoes and mosaics for the interior. Every square inch is covered in coloured designs with Moorish patterns. The copper roof was oxidised green to stand out in the Florentine skyline.

The cornerstone, sent from Jerusalem, was laid 30 June 1874. Inauguration was 24 October 1882.

During WWII, the occupying Germans used the synagogue as a storehouse. There are still bayonet blows visible on the doors of the ark.

In August 1944, the Italian people once again showed their righteousness by rescuing the synagogue from planned German destruction. The retreating Nazis and their foul fascist collaborators filled the building with explosives, but brave resistance fighters were able to defuse almost all of the explosives. Very little damage was done, and it was restored after the war.

During the terrible 1966 flood of the Arno, the synagogue was damaged, but once again restored.

My characters stay by a vacation apartment overlooking the synagogue when they’re in Florence in November–December 1945. The green dome dominates the Florentine skyline, and it’s just a short walk away.

On the eighth day of Chanukah, before Saturday morning services have started, Imre gives Csilla a three-pearl ring in the synagogue. He reassures her it’s not an engagement ring, but just a promise ring. He wants them to have a serious, committed relationship before they’re in a position to discuss marriage, and also wants to mark his territory so other men know she’s off-limits.

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Writer of 20th century historical fiction sagas and series, with elements of women's fiction, romance, and Bildungsroman. I was born in the wrong generation on several fronts. I'm crunchy within reason, predominantly left-handed, and an aspiring hyper polyglot. Oh, and I've been a passionate Russophile for over 20 years, as well as a passionate Estophile, Armenophile, Magyarphile, Kartvelophile, Persophile, Slavophile, and Nipponophile.

For the climax of my contemporary historical WIP, I'd love to talk to any Duranies who went to the 13 March 1984 Sing Blue Silver show in Hartford, CT. I'd be so grateful to have first-person sources provide any information about what that snowstorm and concert were like!

I usually post on Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes Fridays. ALL SATURDAY POSTS ARE PRE-SCHEDULED. I NEVER POST IN REAL TIME ON SHABBOS.